The Night's Journal
by heartbeat311
Summary: <html><head></head>In the dark of night, only one man can see the truth. A collection of poems from Rorschach's point of view.</html>
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: So, as you read in the summary, this is an all-Rorschach collection of poems from his point of view. I am going through the alphabet so there will be 26 chapters. Please enjoy :)

_**Agriculture**_

We

Are

Nothing

But

Food for thought.

We grow

Bear fruit

Shed leaves of philosophy for future sprouts

But our time is short

And our lives meaningless.

We exist

Only to serve as fertilizer

For future generations

A feast for worms

In deep, unhallowed ground.

We are shorn

Broken down

Burned

Eaten.

The clouds shed careful tears for our toils

Yet the sun blazes and

Curls

Our

Veins

Until we are

Nothing

In a world of

Nothing.

We are grown

Just to be

Cut

Down.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah...please review...suppose that's it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Bottles**_

There are broken bottles all around me

They litter the ground

Like chips of multi-colored ice

Brittle shards that

Embed themselves in city skylines

Like the stars stick themselves

Deep into the sky

So deep

You cannot see them

Not here, where the bottles lie.

Sinners and criminals

Clutch at broken bottles

And wield them like daggers.

They shake them at me

Throw them at me

But I am used to bottles

They cut me everyday

I walk on them every night

I feel sliced to ribbons

I feel drenched in blood

So many brittle strands have embedded themselves in me

That I am now glass

Formed from broken crystals

And the faded, white-washed bricks

Of the alleys they house themselves in.

I swim in a sea of broken bottles

Floating along in clinking rhythm

To the beat of the city

And the tremulous, screaming lives

It swallows up with greedy tongues

And glass teeth

_~r.~_

I saw a broken bottle today

My reflection trapped inside it

And wondered curiously if I would ever

Break free.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Communication**_

Above the pitfires of Hell, we speak

We speak to be heard and nothing else

They all speak with sin

I listen and speak back with violence

I see all the whores and prostitutes

Scurry through the rain

Hide in the dark

Little cockroaches fleeing from the light

Rolling in the waste leftover from

Pimps and night clubs.

Politicians and lawyers have the same language

Speak with the same sickening lilt and tenor

Spewing out their fabricated "truths"

Like volcanoes belching ash and sulfur

Into the eyes of those

Who close their eyes anyway

Blinding the blinded.

Children speak innocence until their parents,

Whoring and lying,

Teach _them _to whore and lie

Cheat on their spouses

Drink till they choke

Fuck till their body splits and spills out

Their inner devil into the masses,

The mattresses, and the empty gin bottles.

I read their language

I am an expert in order to detach myself

From their filth

I alone am clean, I have never been touched

I speak with violence, my body like fire

To burn away the scum, their stains,

And cleanse the off-white bone

Peeking through the exposed wound that is

New York City

The slums, the ghettoes, and their filth

The towering, gleaming facade of skyscrapers

The streets, the alleys I walk

Everything is a lie

Everyone communicates this lie

Dancing together in sinful embrace

Rolling together like maggots in the decaying city

I stand among them

Watching from a sea of flesh and immorality

With piercing, vengeful eyes

And claws when I'm ready to use them.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Daughter**_

I hold her in my hand

She looks back

Her face smiling up at me

Dimples on her cheeks

One tooth missing

Blue eyes sparkling

She is so still, unmoving

In life I know she would be moving

Playing

Laughing

_(She is someone's daughter)_

The mother and father sit on their living room couch

Her crying

Him comforting

Both looking to me

Pleading

Desperate

Take the picture from them

See her smiling at me

Promise them I'll find her

_(She is someone's daughter)_

Peer through broken slats

Dogs snarling, fighting over something

Unimportant

The picture is still in my hand

She is still smiling at me

Waiting to play

_I will find you, _I promise.

I smell something burning

When I step into the room

It is dark and quiet

Still

Like the photograph in my hand.

I find the blood first

On a counter in the dark

Press my finger to it

Come away with stains on my skin

Like burnt copper.

The room is too hot

The smoke smells like skin

Burnt flesh

Blood

Suddenly I can't move fast enough

My movements are slow and jarring

As I reach for the furnace

Swing open the door

Rummage through the ashes

Pull out a pair of underwear

Pink underwear

Girl's underwear.

Nothing else is left of her

Nothing, but...

The snarling is too loud

Look out the window

See the dogs fighting over a bone...

Something in me snaps.

_(She is someone's daughter)_

Suddenly, head is filled with a child's shrieks

And the snarling of dogs.

My eyes see nothing but smoke and blood

My nose smells nothing but charred flesh

_(She is someone's daughter)_

"Mother," I whisper, closing my eyes.

That blood will forever stain me

That smoke will forever fill my lungs

I see nothing

But her face

Smiling up at me

So still.

There is no life in a photograph.

You can't play with a picture.

A picture does not laugh, or cry, or love.

I hold her in my hand

Whisper her name.

This is all she will ever be.

She was someone's daughter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this one made me sad to write...not just for Blaire's death but for Walter's, too. I always wonder what would have happened if he'd saved Blaire... Huh. Guess we'll never know... Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Epoch**_

This

Marks the beginning

Of a new time

_Anno Domini, _chapter one.

Midnight on December 31st

And, oh,

I am so cold.

This new world

Cradles and caresses me-

A whore with her babe

Swaddled in moth-eaten black cloth.

But...

I embrace it.

Because one day this babe

Will grow

Rise from his cloth tomb

And his hands will be sure and strong

Around her throat.

And that

Will mark a new beginning

Again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As most of you can probably assume, this is right after the Blaire Roche case. Just thought I'd throw that out there :P Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

_**Faceless**_

Under the city lights that watch me

I lift up my face and peel back my skin

It falls to the ground in ragged, bleeding clumps

Ugly, impure, forsaken

Destined to rot with the rest

Standing amid the city that watches but does not care

I stagger to my feet and empty this vessel

Rid it of filth

And sin

And immorality

And I am hollow

And hallow

No longer constrained by lowly skin

No longer chained to a body that simply _is._

I am not left empty.

A new meaning has lifted me, filled me, possessed me

I drink it up, I soak it in

And, with eyes that cry tears of blood, I smile

And stitch on a new face.


End file.
